Just a Dream
by Dana Lise
Summary: Inspiration for this was due to the fact I had just watch TRF. Just a short oneshot of a very realistic dream Sherlock has, good thing John is there to wake him. Established John/Sherlock relationship. Read and Review please and thank you. Enjoy!


A/N: PLease excuse me for any bad grammer or just plain lack of making sense, I created this at 12 in the morning after watching TRF for the first time...yes I know I should have already seen it, but I had been previously grounded and without a computer at my disposal. Please do enjoy.

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><p>Falling, being so high up looking over the edge and jumping, knowing full well what awaits you at the bottom. You jump, and as your falling you feel everything. Thoughts cloud your mind "I'm not ready to die." But it's too late to change your mind now. The die has been caste and it's out of your hand. It feels like your falling forever. And then…<p>

"Sherlock, Sherlock wake up." A hand was placed gently on my shoulder and John's voice beckoned to me.

It took a while for the cloudy haze of sleep to disappear from my sight. Once it did though I was gazing upon the most wonderful sight after such a horrid dream. This early in the morning when the first rays of sunlight weren't even present yet, John still seemed to have a glow about him, or maybe that's just the way I saw him, his deep blue eyes tracing over my features in a steady observing demeanor, I could gaze into those same eyes every day and never get bored of them looking back at me. "You were talking in your sleep again." He whispered as I ran my hand through his mussed hair. "What was I saying this time?" It had become a pattern for me to have these dreams lately. Always the same one, always ending at the same time, although I was glad John was there to wake me up I was somewhat disappointed that I never got to see how it would progress if I were, in fact, to fall and reach my destination in my dream.

"You were saying 'the fall' over and over again." He looked at me, searching my face for any clues as to what that might mean, as if I would have any more of a clue than he did. For dreams were just dreams, not objects to be picked apart and analyzed. Plus, I was a tad bit tired and right now I just couldn't focus with such an amazing presence lying next to me.

I almost felt dizzy with the intoxicating scent that was John. But one thing did make sense this time and it worried me immensely "It's nothing, don't worry."

He relaxed slightly and leaned in for our routine morning kiss. I didn't want to worry him, but I knew that there was something about that dream, something that kept picking at a certain part of my brain. Like some forgotten memory, lain to rest. "Mmm so, what's on the schedule for today? Lestrade's given us the day off."

Day off, those words wouldn't have been part of my vocabulary if it weren't for John. Looking back I realized just how many things he had changed. If he were to be suddenly taken out of my life, well I…I just don't know what would become of me. I hoped I would never find out. "Well, I think if I am correct, today was the day of our first case."

Rightly so, every year since we had been together, among many things we celebrated, this was our biggest because back then although neither of us knew it that was the beginning that became our everything.

"So, Angelo's first then?" John smiled, knowing we had this down to a science and he shouldn't even need to ask anymore. He hopped out of bed with a sort of happiness that was emanating from him; almost becoming tangible. As I heard the shower turn on and knew I had some time to think, I let my mind wander; wander back to that dream that had been haunting me.

I had never told John of exactly what went on in the dream; he just chalked it up to my fear of heights. But that wasn't it at all; something was happening and it felt useless to even try and figure upon what I could do to stop it. For the one detail, that one unpredictable factor that I never spoke of to john was my equal in every way, and my downfall. For the shadow that was always hidden in some part of the dream, that face haunting me, could only belong to one person.

James Moriarty.


End file.
